The Other Way Around
by MissLyraK
Summary: John doesn't hear Mary's screams until it is too late and Dean is left to live with the consequences. Will John ever overcome the guilt of failing his family that night? How will the Winchesters be different? Or are our destinies set in stone?
1. Chapter 1

It's no mystery to anyone how quickly things can change but no one ever expects it to happen to them. It doesn't take long, a millisecond maybe, and when it happens, his life doesn't flash before his eyes like some people say. But yet again, he was only four years old and had probably never heard about what should or should not happen in a moment like this. The flames engulf the nursery in less than a second and his mother's screams fill his ears along with Sammy's crying. He had no idea what to do except run.

John Winchester wakes up to the sound of his wife's screams and the smell of smoke burning in his throat. But the moment he steps into the hallway, he knows it is too late. The sounds of sirens are drawing near but Sammy's nursery is lost in smoke and flames, flames that are crawling across the ceiling and down the hall. This moment will stay with him till the moment of his death; nothing will ever take away the guilt of that moment, the moment where he stood there mesmerised, frozen with fear. Weeks after the fire, he would hear about the official cause of the fire, faulty electrical wiring. But there was something, something in that moment amid the flames that told a different story. The fire had destroyed the nursery with such ferocity but left the rest of the house relatively unscathed. Perhaps it was the guilt, the guilt that he wasn't able to do anything, but he believed, knew that something, something unnatural, had caused the fire.

John Winchester however, had no time to work on that suspicion. His wife was dead, consumed by the flames, her body unrecognisable and his son lie clinging to life in a hospital bed. Somehow, Sammy had escaped relatively unscathed. The firemen said that Dean had saved Sammy, somehow shielding him from the flames with his body even when his clothes had been burned off.

It was only six months earlier that they were at this very hospital for the birth of their son. That day now seemed so long ago even though the baby that slept in his arms looked so small. He was sleeping soundly, so peaceful in contrast to the events of the last two days. John only wished that he could close his eyes without seeing that burning nursery.

"John, you need to get some sleep. Dean's doing really well but he's not going to be waking up soon. You continue like this, you won't be able to do much of anything when he does wake up. Go get some sleep, Sammy needs you too." He knows this but he still finds it difficult to convince himself to leave. He already lost his wife; he doesn't want to leave his son for the last time too. He knows that all this wasn't Sammy's fault but a part of him almost hates his son, as much as he hates himself, to be alright. Little Sammy that everyone was so excited about, that Mary was so excited about, that Dean was so excited about. Little Sammy who does little other than eat and sleep, little Sammy who hasn't said his first words, little Sammy who hasn't played baseball with him, or loves chocolate chip cookies.

The motel seems infinitely hostile compared to his burnt out home. Insurance has come through much faster than expected but it will still be weeks, months before they could move back. From the door he can hear the baby's cries. The ladies from church have been so helpful. He can't bring the baby with him to the hospital or watch after it when he tries to sleep, so they come by in shifts to help with everything. He doesn't want to admit it but everyone must know anyway, he just doesn't think he can face being alone with Sammy yet.

"Oh John, Sammy here's just a little hungry I think. How's Dean doing?" She has the baby in one hand and a bottle in the other. Sure enough, the crying stops the moment the bottle enters and stays in his mouth.

"Hey Maggie, the doctors say that he's doing pretty well. They still have him sedated but everything's looking up. All his vitals are getting better."

"That boy's going to be alright. I just know it. He's a strong one."

"I know."

"Well, you try and get some rest. Alice will be coming by soon to keep an eye on Sammy here."

"Thanks so much, Maggie."

"Don't worry about it. Good night."

When he wakes up the next morning it is already eleven o'clock. He runs off to the hospital immediately.

"John, good to see that you got some sleep. Dean's been doing great. I know you don't see much happening but he's really improving so much. I heard the doctors talking about lowering the sedation."

"Thanks Lucy."

He heads off to get prepared to see his son. There are necessary precautions to be taken in order to prevent infection. Dean's already had multiple surgeries for skin grafts but given that they covered over 60% of his body, the work wasn't done yet. It's still a shock to the system each time John enters his son's room. There is barely any inch of skin left not swathed in bandages and there a multiple tubes snaking away from his body. His tiny face is obscured by the breathing tube and bandages over his eyes.

"Mr. Winchester." John turns to see Dr. Bloedel. "It all looks pretty overwhelming doesn't it? But let me tell you, your son has been doing remarkably well. He's not completely out of the woods yet but things are looking better each day."

"When will he be waking up?" It was very unsettling seeing Dean so still. He was always so energetic.

"We will have to keep him sedated for now. He would be in a lot of pain if we were to let him wake up. It wouldn't do much except interfere with his recovery. Once his lungs get a bit stronger, we'll be able to start lowering his sedation, switch the ventilator to assist and start weaning him off it. The way things are going, that can be within the next week. There are some things that we'll have to talk about though."

"What do you mean? You just said that he's doing so well. Everyone's been saying that."

"Yes, be that as it may, Dean sustained some very serious injuries. The skin grafts have been taking on well, but with the affected area being so large; it's very likely that there will be some problems with scarring and contractures."

"What does that mean? What's very likely? How can you prevent this?"

"We're already doing what we can. The splinting will help prevent the contractures and once he's well enough, pressure garments will help with the scarring as well. He'll most likely still need additional surgeries down the road though, and a significant amount of physical therapy. Do you have any questions? I know it's a lot to take in."

"After… all of this, how much will he improve?"

"It's still too early for me to say, but your boy has surpassed our every expectation. I have no reason to believe that he won't continue to do so. I don't foresee any significant physical impairment in his future."

"How about his eyes? Will he be blind?" He feels as if he knows the answer to this question already. He vaguely remembers an ophthalmologist talking to him but he was too tired, too much in shock to remember what was said.

"Yes. The damage was very significant and it's currently beyond us to repair that kind of damage or perform a corneal transplant with this kind of injury. His retinas were, however, relatively undamaged so I would not rule out the possibility of him regaining his sight in the future."

"Thank you doctor, Dean's a strong boy. He'll be alright. Yes, he'd be fine." He repeated the words like a mantra, as if saying them enough would make them true.

The next few days pass slowly, each hour, each day, seemingly repeating itself. But Monday morning, the nurses are missing from the front desk at the PICU and through the glass windows of Dean's room; John can see a hurried commotion.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: So yesterday I was thinking, where am I going with this? What do I want? Sure I had a vague idea, but I wasn't sure. I wrote chapter 1 at around 2 o'clock and I'm EVIL that late at night! So anyway, I've now decided that this story will be split over two different time frames because I don't think I can torture wee!Dean endlessly nor write that much really depressed!John. So I give you...

PRESENT

"Oh SHIT!" A loud clash comes from the kitchen followed by a string of expletives.

"Dean, are you alright?" Sam almost trips over the pants he's putting on. He quickly pulls them up and runs down the stairs. "Dean!"

"What?" Dean looks unharmed, but his face is a little red.

"I heard. Never mind, what happened?"

"Ileftthedraweropenandwalkedintoit." He speaks as quickly as he can, a crooked grin on his face, and Sam has no idea what he just said.

"What? Anyway, you owe, like, ten dollars."

"No I don't." There was no swearing allowed in the house. It was a rule they implemented after Sam entered the first grade and started to get in trouble because of his language. "You know what. You were upstairs. I only swore because I knew no one was here. It doesn't count."

"That's not how it works. No swearing in the house, one dollar each time."

"You're so annoying Sammy. Just wait until I'm done with this." Dean reaches behind him but misses the handle of the pan and touches the hot metal instead. "FUCK! Oh shit! This doesn't count right? It's justified. Sammy, Sam?" There's no reply except of a half coked sob. "Hey, what's wrong? Are you ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Let me see your hand." He cradles Dean's right hand in his hands. "It's really red and a bit of the skin is peeling off. You should run it under the sink for a bit."

"It's fine."

"Just do it ok?" There's an edge to the young boy's voice that's oddly out of place.

"If you're going to cry about it."

"I'm sorry Dean." This time the sobs are a bit more pronounced and less held back.

"I'm already doing it. You don't really have to cry. What are you sorry about? For being so annoying? I know you can't help it."

"I always get you hurt, Dean." He's full on crying now. Tears coming out faster than his sleeves can mop them up.

"Come over here you. Sammy, you know that's not true. It was just a hot pan. If it was anyone's fault, it was mine."

"But…"

"But nothing, whatever's making you feel this way, it's not true. You know me; no one makes me do anything I don't want to do. Besides, what am I going to do without you? Hang out with dad? And who am I going to do this to?"

"Huh?" The moment the word leaves his lips, he could feel Dean grab him from behind but it all happens so fast he has not time to react. He's on the ground, sitting on his ass before he knows it. Dean's laugh is loud and uncontrolled and he can't help but do the same.

"Come on, we gotta get ready for school. Go get some forks. The eggs smell burnt. They look alright to you?"

"They're a bit burnt but they're fine." The eggs have a bit of grey tinge to them and some burnt brown bits in them. They still look edible though, which is more than he can say about anything he ever makes.

"Yeah, I know." Dean had already shovelled the entirety of his breakfast into his mouth in less than thirty seconds, doing so without leaving any trace of it on his face. "Hurry up; we're going to miss the bus."

"Dude, we still have ten minutes."

"Yeah whatever, wash the dishes when you're done."

It's raining hard enough for the rain to ricochet off the pavement and soak their jeans. When the bus does arrive, they're both freezing.

"Sorry guys, the weather's getting pretty crazy. Slowed everything right down, can't blame anyone though. Best be safe I say. There've been so many accidents lately. Real shame it is. All of them so young too, those poor parents."

"Don't worry about it Bill. We were just freezing our asses off." The two of them take the first two empty seats at the front of the bus. Once the chatter builds up enough, Dean turns towards Sam. "Do you think that it's something that dad will have to work on? Six kids, all within three blocks. He was really serious when he told us to stay away yesterday night."

"I don't know, Dean. He'll be back by tonight. We can ask him then."

Once they reach the school, the rain has only grown stronger, the dark grey sky threatening to erupt in thunder.

"Good luck with your test today."

"What, what test?"

"Dean, English grammar? You were talking about it all of last week. Nouns, pronouns, verbs adverbs, it was driving dad crazy."

"Why didn't you ask me about it yesterday? I'm going to get a zero Sammy. They're going to make me repeat the sixth grade."

"You are crazy; they aren't going to make you repeat the sixth grade because of some stupid test. You won't get a zero anyway. You do know how to speak English Dean. It probably won't be that hard anyway."

"Of course you'd say that genius. You're only in the second grade and you might as well be in middle school already. I'm going see what I can do about passing that test. Bye Sammy."

"Yeah, see you at lunch Dean."

On his way to class, Dean contemplates his options. He knows all of his concerns are irrational, there's no way that this stupid test will have any effect on his grades at all. But he really wants to do well. John insists that his sons do well and if there's any chance that the recent 'accidents' are actually a case, acing this test might help convince his dad to let him work on it. John never hid from his boys what he was up to during his weekend hunting trips. Knowledge was power and he taught them enough to ensure that they knew when to get out of a situation and what to do if they were caught somewhere they didn't want to be. The two of them were in charge of maintaining the salt lines around the house, knew what was made of iron, what was made of silver and when to use it. They also knew about the bottles of holy water around the house. John however, never told them any specifics about what he was working on and never involved them in any case. Sammy was still very young, but Dean felt that he was old enough and that John should let him in on some things at least some of the time.

He turned around in his desk. "Mike, are you ready for the test? I'm so not."

"Oh man, I totally forgot about it." There's a loud shuffling of papers. "I don't even know where I put my notes."

"We are so screwed." He lets his head slump onto his desk. It should all be alright, as nervous as he gets, he still does well regardless.

"Dean, honey, are you alright?"

"Huh? Mrs. Miller?"

"You're looking a bit pale. Are you feeling sick?"

Here's his chance. Mrs. Miller was an experienced teacher but the diehard grandmotherly type. She did in fact talk about her grandchildren often, the oldest one about to graduate from college. He doesn't want to take advantage of her but he doesn't want to take this test. It wouldn't really be so bad though would it? He'd just have to make up for it tomorrow after he'd had some time to study.

"It's just my head. I think I'm getting a headache."

"Well maybe you should head down to the nurse's office. Do you have your medication with you?"

"It's in my backpack." He hasn't had them in a while. But there was a time when he used to get really bad migraines and he still carried his pills with him. He hopes they don't make him take them.

"Alright, I got your coat and your bag dear. Do you want to take my arm?"

He reaches with his right hand to find her elbow and stands up.

"Oh my! What happened to your hand?"

He'd already forgotten about that. "Had a bit of an accident this morning. It's fine though."

"Well, I think we should get Nurse Taylor to take a look nonetheless. Here we are."

"Mrs Miller, what do we have here? Dean Winchester. How're you feeling hon?"

"He's getting a bit of a headache."

"Yeah." He decides to say as little as possible. The less he says the less lying he'd be doing and the less he'd have to keep track of.

"You might want to take a look at his hand too. He says he had a bit of an accident this morning."

"Well, why don't you sit down on the bed here Dean and we'll take a look see."

"Feel better soon hon. I gotta head back to class."

"Thanks Mrs. Miller." He's beginning to feel a headache coming on for real now. Leave it to him to actually get sick pretending to be sick.

"Do you think you'll need your pills dear?"

"Maybe, I'm still alright for now though."

"Well, why don't you show me your hand then? What happened?"

"I was making breakfast and I missed the handle of the pan. It was stupid. It doesn't hurt anymore. I ran it under the tap for a bit."

"You cook a lot?"

"I like it and it'd probably be more dangerous eating anything my dad makes anyway. He tries, but he can't make anything edible unless it's from a cardboard box. He still manages to ruin it half the time though." He's sure that it's wise not to say that John is usually away over the weekend and thus wouldn't be able to make breakfast even if he wanted him to. It's true though, that he'd rather not eat anything his father makes.

"Well, dads usually aren't the best cooks are they? I'm going to clean this out, put some ointment on it and put a bandage on. You'll have to be careful not to get an infection. Scar tissue isn't as good as keeping the germs out as skin. This is going to sting a little."

It's more of a tingling feeling than it is stinging. His headache is getting worse though. He knows he's getting a migraine. There's a bit of a ringing in his ears, he's feeling less steady, and he's 'seeing' a strange glow. "Nurse Taylor? Can you get my pills please? They're in the front pocket of my bag pack."

"Sure thing." She stops what she's doing and rummages through his bag. "I'll go get you some water. Why don't you lie down for now dear?" When she returns, she drops the pills into his hand and hands him a cup. "You try and get some rest. I'm going to call your dad."

Would he be back yet? He wasn't supposed to be back until tonight and Dean doesn't want anyone to know that they were left alone.

"I feel better already. You don't have to call him."

"You're as white as a sheet. You're going home; now lie back down young man." There are some rustling noises, and then he hears her pick up the phone. "Nancy, can you get me John Winchester's number please? Yeah it's been a while but Dean's not feeling so well right now. Thanks" There's some more dialling and then a pause. "Mr. Winchester? This is Nurse Taylor from school. Dean's not feeling well. He's got quite a migraine. Would you be able to come and pick him up? Alright, see you soon." More dialling again. "Nancy, can you please go fetch Sam please? John's coming to pick Dean up and he wants to get Sam too. Thanks."

"Dean, your dad is going to come pick you and Sam up. Now let's finish up with your hand. Do you feel any better?"

He's not sure how he feels. His head doesn't feel like it's about to explode anymore and he's not feeling much of anything. He does think he may be about to throw up though but not so much that he can't open his mouth to speak. He wants to say yes but when he does open his mouth only a moan escapes. Embarrassing much?

"Oh darling, your daddy will be here soon." Just as she finishes up with his hand there is a knock at the door. "Here he comes."

P.S.: If you read this far, please leave a review. I don't care if you hated it, tell me still!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I'm such an idiot, I posted the wrong chapter earlier tonight. I took it off already now. I'm more ahead than I thought! This was my tag to the earlier post and it still applies.

A/N(2): A few things, this 'little' project that I started a few nights ago is starting to EAT MY BRAIN so I need some advice. I've got the basic outline of what I want to do with this already but the more I think about it, well, the larger it grows. So is it a better idea to just write this story a bit longer or split things up so that there's more of it ultimately? Second, I'm going to be in Toronto for the next week or so, babysitting my cousin. I got a bit of writing done on the plane so the next chapter should be up soon but I can't make any promises for the next one after that. Don't be surprised if nothing gets posted for the next week or more. Umm, one more thing, I don't have a beta and I hate reading over my own work. You guys would tell me if my grammar was glaringly terrible, right? Right?

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. If I did, I wouldn't be here.

PAST

"Hey, what's going on? Is Dean alright?" No one's told him anything and he can't even see is his son through the swarm of people. "Maggie? What's going on?"

"Everything's fine John. Dean started waking up and he got pretty agitated, set off a few alarms. We've got him settled down now."

"Dean woke up? Is he awake now?"

"Not exactly, Dr. Bloedel will explain everything." As Maggie steps away, he's finally able to see his son. The bulky tubing that went with the ventilator is gone and replaced with an oxygen mask and the bandages over his eyes are gone as well. There is still quite a bit of swelling but he's surprised by how much his son still looks like himself.

"Maggie said that Dean started waking up?"

"Yes. He wasn't completely awake, he's still too heavily medicated for that and he most likely didn't know what was going on. As the meds make their way out of his system though, he'll become more and more lucid. He's asleep now, but he might wake a little again tonight." He picks up a device beside Dean's right hand. "This controls his pain medication. If he wakes up, he'll probably need this."

"Thanks doc."

"Don't mention it."

John takes a seat in the plastic chair beside Dean's bed. How did things end up like this? Only two weeks ago, his family was making chocolate chip cookies in the kitchen. Dean ate a couple spoonfuls of dough before Mary could stop him. Now, that house is destroyed, his wife is dead and his eldest son is just coming back from the doors of death.

On the edges of his awareness he hears a steady beeping noise. Is it the oven timer? Why isn't mom turning him off? He tries to open his eyes but he can't. Where is here? All over his body a steady itch is growing stronger. When he tries to move to scratch it though he finds his arms to be heavy and unresponsive and suddenly a searing pain rips through his body.

"Dean? Dean, try and relax, your heart's racing. Are you in pain?"

"Dad?" His voice is weak and raspy. One word and he's already out of breath.

"Take your time, son." Is he crying? What happened?

"Hurts, what happened?"

"This will help." There's a clicking sound and a cooling sensation seems to flood his body and the pain ebbs away. "Dean, I'm going to get the doctor. There was an accident and you're hurt pretty bad. Don't worry about right now."

"Sammy?"

"He's fine Dean." John jabs the call button a few times and heads toward the nurses' station.

"John, is something wrong?"

"Dean's awake, really awake." Hearing himself say those words gives him the first sense of real relief since this whole thing happened.

"I'll page Dr. Bloedel right away." On her way to Dean's room Maggie grabs a small cup of ice chips. "Honey, you're finally awake. Your daddy's been so worried about you, he never wants to leave. Are you in any pain? I'm going to give you some ice chips. It'll make your throat feel a bit better. We just took the breathing tube out this morning. That's why your throat is sore." She lifts the oxygen mask a little and shovels one of the ice chips into his mouth. "Just let it melt. Does that feel a bit better?"

"Yeah. What happened? Where's mom? Where's Sammy?" Not knowing what to say, she looks to John, but the look on his face tells her he has no better idea than she does. It was at this moment that Dr. Bloedel strolled into the room.

"Ah, Dean Winchester. You're really at the top of the class. I know you're probably really tired son, but I'd like to check a few things and see if you can do a few things for me. So try and stay awake for a bit longer kid, ok? Oh, I almost forgot to introduce myself. I'm Dr. Bloedel, but you can call me Charlie or Chuck, I've been following your case for the last week or so. That nice lady you were talking to is Maggie." He can feel Charlie or Chuck pick up his right arm and do some prodding. But then it suddenly feels as if his skin is being peeled off. The pain is localised but searing, way worse than anything he'd ever felt, way worse than before. A strange noise escapes his lips and it takes him a bit to realise it's coming from him because he has no control over it.

"Sorry about that. I know it hurts. Maggie, have these bandages been changed today?"

"No, we usually do it a bit later in the night."

"Well, we're going to have to up his pain meds a bit."

"Dean, can you try wiggling your fingers a bit for me? Just a little."

Fulfilling that simple request is easier said than done. His whole body is feeling very awkward and heavy and it was getting very difficult to stay concentrated.

"That's it. Great job." He turns his attention to the kids face now. He lifts the left eyelid gently and shines a small flashlight at the eye. The cornea is a cloudy grey surrounded by swirls of blood in the sclera. "Does that hurt?"

"It stings a little and I can't see anything." He can hear the tinge of panic evident in the young boy's voice.

"It's alright Dean." He lifts the other eyelid and the eye looks the same except for a bit more blood. "Try and get some rest."

"Maggie, John. Everything is looking good. I'll drop by again at the end of my shift."

"Thanks, doc."

Finally the exhaustion is just too much and Dean drifts off to sleep. John settles back into the chair.

"You should go home John, spend some time with Sammy."

"But Dean, just woke up, I don't want to leave him alone."

"I understand, but you've got to take care of yourself too John. You won't be much good for him if you get yourself sick. You can stay tonight though but still try and get some sleep?"

"Thanks Maggie." He slouches down a little in his chair and falls asleep. Some time later a rustling noise wakes him up.

"Huh?"

"Sorry to wake you John. I have to change Dean's bandages. You should probably step outside for a bit."

"No. I want to be here if Dean wakes up."

"Alright." Maggie starts with Dean's right arm. Some of the bandage was already loosened from when Dr. Bloedel came to do his check up. She takes off the splint and starts working on the contact layers. The skin is puffy from the grafts and lines of stitches and staples are visible though neat and tiny. The rest of the skin is pink and scaly with some pockets of fluid. She is as gentle as she can, but the mixture of the fluid and the ointment makes the bandage a bit sticky and she has to peel it off bit by bit. Dean begins to stir as she works. She fetches a vial from the cart and injects it into his central line. "Dean? It's Maggie. Is that a bit better?" There's no verbal reply but there's a tiny nod. "Your dad's right here. John."

"I'm right here Dean." At the sound of his father's voice he tries to reach out in his direction but another jolt of pain stops him.

"Don't try to move Dean. John, go grab a pair of gloves from the cart and you can hold his hand. Go on. Your daddy's coming Dean, just wait a moment." For a man that has barely had any real amount of sleep for over a week, John is incredibly fast. He's got Dean's right hand cradled in his hands in less than thirty seconds. "I'm going to start again now. Slow deep breathes okay? I'll try my best to make this as quick as possible." She's done within fifteen minutes. She knows that the young boy is in a lot of pain but he hasn't complained at all. "That's it, we're almost done. I just have some drops left for your eyes." She wipes off the few tears that managed to leak out and deposited the drops. "All done."

"You're doing so well Dean. I'm so proud of you." It broke John's heart to see his eldest like this. It was his job to look after his family but he stood frozen in fear while his four year old son saved his little brother and stayed with his wife in her last moments. That sort of a responsibility shouldn't fall on a four year old. A four year old shouldn't have to go though all of this. But Dean didn't complain at all. John knew that he couldn't hide the truth from Dean forever. Memories of the fire were bound to find their way back soon. As great as he'd been up till now, John had no idea how he would react when he found out what exactly had happened and that his mom was dead. There were strict rules at the PICU but John knew that Dean would be able to handle things a lot better if he got to know his brother was safe. The three of them were all each other had now, and they should be able to be in one room together.

When John was sure that Dean had in fact fallen asleep again, he went off to speak to Maggie.

"Maggie? There's something I have to speak to you about."

"What is it?"

"It's just that Dean has been doing so well, but he still doesn't remember what happened and he still doesn't know that Mary is dead." The last few words got caught in his throat and came out as more of a sob. "He's bound to remember soon and I just think it'd be a bit better for him if his little brother got to visit. If he knew that he protected him and got him safe you know? When he finds out about Mary, he's not gonna believe us if Sammy isn't there."

"I'll see what I can do about that, talk to the doctors about it. But there are rules for a reason and a hospital isn't a good place for a baby to be around unless it has to be."

"Whatever precautions need to be taken, I'll do it. But even Sammy knows something's wrong. He's been getting more and more restless, doesn't stop crying no matter what the ladies do. He's not all that used to me either, it was always Mary or Dean with him. Wouldn't ever want to let his brother go."

"I'll try my best." Maggie loved being a nurse. Her caring nature made her best suited for this line of work but some days it's about as much as she can take. There was so much satisfaction when someone got better, but other times, their stories were so heartbreaking she just didn't know what to do.

"I'll go back to Dean now then. Thanks for doing this."

Waking up for the fourth time comes a lot easier. He doesn't stay confused as long and the pain is not as bad as he expected it to be. There's a soft steady snore beside him so he knows that his father is still there. What happened to him? Where was mom? Where was Sammy? Smoke. There was a lot of smoke. Was there a fire? How did they get out? He remembered waking up and suddenly feeling very cold. He goes off to find mom, he sees someone, a man in Sammy's nursery. It looks like dad but he's not in his pjs. Then he sees mom but when he gets there, NO! It was just a nightmare. That's it, it wasn't true. She was on the ceiling and the ceiling was crawling with flames. He remembers climbing up the ledge of the crib and grabbing Sammy. Was Sammy alright? It was just a dream though right? But if it was a dream, why was he here? This was real and that meant his mom was gone. But where was Sammy? He could feel the bile rising in his throat and his head was spinning. The flames and the smoke ate the room up so quickly. He tried to get out but the door had closed and the knob burned his hand. He tried to find the windows but it was getting so hot! He kept his arms around Sammy to try and shield him but he was afraid that he would smother him. It was so hot that he thought they had to be on fire themselves. He goes for the door again but something hits him in the face and he can't see anything. He finds the knob and this time he can't feel the heat on it anymore. When he gets the door open, there is nothing but relief and he remembers nothing more. Where was Sammy? He thinks he's going to throw up but he can't. There's a strange awareness of the emptiness of his stomach and though he can feel it seizing and contracting nothing but a bit of thin bile makes it way up. He feels like he's choking and it hurts. He knows he's about to lose consciousness when notices some loud blaring noise.

"Turn that off." The voice is rough, authoritative.

"What's…"

"John, you're going to have to step outside. Someone get the suction. Dean, you're fine, I know it sounds impossible but try and relax and slow down your breathing. I'm going to clear out your airway."

_Huh?_ Something is being rammed down his throat and he thinks he's going to suffocate. When it's out though, he feels better immediately and it's a lot easier to breathe.

"Dean, what happened?" He realises it's Charlie again, his voice not as strict as it was just now.

He tries to talk but his voice is nothing but a croak.

"Here have some of these."

A piece of ice gets put in his mouth. He waits for it to melt a little then bites and swallows it. "I felt like I was going to throw up but nothing came up and then I started choking and I couldn't breathe. Where's Sammy? Is he alright? I tried to get out but the door was so hot and then…"

"Sammy's just fine, your dad's going to bring him to visit this afternoon."

"Yeah, he really misses you, keeps on fussing."

"Okay." He doesn't know what to believe until his brother's actually here. "Mom's gone isn't she? She was on the ceiling. She kept on screaming but I couldn't reach here. I'm sorry dad. The fire was everywhere."

"It's not your fault son. You've got nothing to be sorry about. I should've been there. It wasn't your fault." What was he supposed to say? He'd failed his family, failed his wife, failed his son. And here Dean was the one apologizing when it was his fault. But what was he supposed to say, what would he be able to say? It was his fault and but he wasn't man enough to own up to it. He was too weak to say sorry. The weight of the words sat heavy in his chest but speaking them would leave him empty and shatter what ever was left of his composure. "Know what, I'm going to go get Sammy. He misses his brother so much. I'll be back soon." John gets out of there as quickly as he could, closes the door behind him and crouches down on the ground. He's losing control of the tears coming out of his eyes, losing control of himself. "I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. Mary, would you ever forgive me?"

"John! You've gotta stop beating yourself up like this. It wasn't anyone's fault. Your boys need you to hold yourself together. You told Dean not to blame himself because it wasn't his fault and you're right. Well you've got to see that it wasn't your fault either. So what if you had woken up sooner? You wouldn't have been able to stop the fire either. If you were hurt too, then who'd watch out for the boys. I know it's hard, but try and think about this logically?" She'd seen a lot of kids hurt badly, it was part of the job, and the parents always are so hard on themselves. Sometimes it was their fault though and she always cursed the people who wouldn't even take the time to make sure their pool gates where locked, tie up electrical cords properly, or just keep an eye on their kid. But most of the time, its just the nature of things that bad things happened and there wasn't really much anyone can do about it.

"You don't understand. When I woke up and saw the smoke and the flames, I was so afraid. I just stood there and I couldn't do anything. I didn't even try to find my wife, my kids. I didn't do anything. Sammy would've died too if Dean hadn't saved him." He could tell that she didn't know what to say. What do you say to a man who was so afraid of dying that he didn't try to safe his wife and children? People went into burning buildings to save women and children they didn't even know. But the look on the nurse's face was not one of disgust. And though she still didn't say anything, she held out her arms and pulled him into a tight hug.

"We all have moments that we wish we can do over again, to have been stronger, to have been braver, but time doesn't move backwards. You can blame yourself about this for the rest of your life and its not going to change a thing. But what's important is what you do from now on. Be stronger now. Be braver now. Go get Sammy, Dean wants his little brother. Oh, and take a cab John. You're in no shape to drive and the last thing you need right now is to get into a crash."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks for all of you who left me a review! There is a fair bit of tweaking that should be done with this story but I don't think that I'm ready to go back and do an in depth analysis of my own writing yet. Anyway, you'd all rather that I kept on writing new stuff rather than go back and do some re-writing, right? I'm about 800 words into the next chapter right now and I might be able to escape to the library tomorrow to finish it. No promises though!

Please review! I have cookies.

PRESENT

"You are such a doofus. You made yourself sick, pretending to be sick? That's the most pathetic thing I ever heard. There's no way that dad's going to let you work on the case now. You should've just taken the test, would've aced it anyway."

"Shut up Sam and don't say anything to anyone or I'm never telling you anything ever again. Oh, and I'll tell Suzy that you have a crush on her sister, write her love letters and tuck them under your bed, and that you cut out her picture from the newspaper after the Easter egg hunt."

"You wouldn't."

"As long as you don't tell anyone. I've got your letters, as proof."

"Dean! They're mine. How do you even know about them? Give them back."

"Should've learnt your lesson Sammy, big brothers know everything. Just the way it is."

They're both up in Dean's room. John had gone off to Aunt Grace's. Aunt Grace was everyone's honorary grandmother and she often helped them fix supper in exchange for getting work done around the house and on her car. She was getting pretty 'ancient' as Dean liked to say and it was difficult and dangerous for her to do a lot of things that needed to be done, like climbing up and down to do the cleaning. But the kitchen was Aunt Grace's domain and she always said that she'd be able to cook and bake if nothing else. She'd taken a special liking to Sam and Dean and insisted on cooking for them as often as possible after she'd tasted a bit of John's cooking. Dean had snuck it over to her after she'd offered him some pie once. It was desperate and obvious but he didn't really have a choice. He always had a way with the ladies, young and old. But Winchesters weren't one to take charity from anyone and Aunt Grace flat out refused to take any of their money, "I'm a old gal with no children of my own. What am I going to do with all that money? Bury it with me?" So the decision was made that John would fix up her car whenever there was any work needed and they'd all help with her house work and do the dishes after the cooking was done. They were all supposed to be there right now but since Dean was sick, John gave them a pass. They were also supposed to eat dinner with her tonight though.

"This stuff is really easy. Don't know why I freaked out so much over it." He'd just gone over his notes again. There wasn't really anything to study.

"You always get yourself all worked up over nothing, just like dad. You're in your last year of elementary school. Enjoy your freedom while you still have it."

"Do you think we should go over to aunt Grace's? We were supposed to help her and have dinner together tonight. We already got to slack off from school. We shouldn't leave all the work to dad. He might not even be able to do all of it."

"Yeah, I guess we should go. Do you think she'll have cookies?"

"Dude, she always has cookies… and pie. Let's go."

With cookies and pie as an incentive, they make their way over within five minutes and ring the door bell.

"Coming! Coming." Her voice is loud and strong but with that grandmotherly squeak. "Sam and Dean Winchester! What are you boys doing over here? Dean, your father told me you weren't feeling well. You come in and sit down right this second."

"I'm fine now Aunt Grace. We promised that we would come."

"Well, I don't like your color or that bandage on your hand. I won't have you doing any work mister."

"Fine, but at least get Sammy to do something."

"Go help your dad then Sam, he's upstairs doing the windows. Do you want anything Dean? I'll get you some apple pie."

"Thanks aunt Grace."

Sam waits until she's gone before he gives a smack to the back of Dean's head.

"Ow!"

"You're such a jerk! You totally set me up and now you get pie too!"

"I didn't make you come over here. Besides, we should be helping her out, I offered to help, and she just wouldn't let me. You should go help dad."

Sam leaves and Dean sits on the couch, waiting for Aunt Grace to come back.

"Here you go Dean." There's a clang as she sets the plate down on the coffee table. "Fork's on the right."

"Thanks."

"It's no problem. Someone's gotta eat all that pie. How's school going? You're almost off to middle school aren't you?"

"Yeah. I'm looking forward to it, but it'd be weird, being in a different school than Sammy."

"Well you did just fine for four years without him didn't you? You wouldn't have a problem. Most of your friends are going to Jefferson too aren't they?"

"All of them are." He's shovelling pieces of pie into his mouth while she talks and almost chokes on a piece.

"That's all good then. You're an intelligent boy. I know for a fact you'll do well. Been staying out of trouble lately I hope? What happened to your hand?"

"Just had a bit of an accident, it's nothing. The nurse at school just wanted to keep it covered so I don't get an infection."

"You've got to be careful with yourself. Can you read ok?"

"My fingers are fine and it doesn't hurt anymore."

"You be sure to take car of yourself, listen for the cars. Best if you and Sam stay away from the city centre."

"Huh?" Aunt Grace had a tendency to be easily distracted.

"You boys heard about those accidents? Three kids on their bikes and two just crossing the street I think. Don't know what this world's coming to. They let any old idiot drive a car these days. Haven't heard of a thing like this in forty years, not since that monster. It's all been downtown though so you boys best stay in the neighbourhood, just for now."

"What do you mean not in forty years? What happened forty years ago?"

"Oh, a good friend of mine lost her little girl then. Her whole person just wilted, died of grief I say. Anyway, I don't remember his name, Marshall something maybe. A very disturbed young man. Somehow he got it in his head that all these kid's were plotting something against him. Least that's what he said, might've been trying to get off on an insanity plea. Judge and jury wouldn't have it, got the death penalty for it. If anyone ever deserved to go like that. Streets where quieter then, parents let their children out later and let them out alone. He'd drive around, find just one or two of them, swerve a few times just to scare and then run them over. Some kids got away, that's how he got caught. He got cocky, would taunt them for longer. Killed nine children in all. It's nothing like that now but so many children in such a short time. Brings back some pretty horrible memories. Those poor parents."

Perhaps this really was a case then. Could it be the spirit of this Marshall, somehow awakened and doing the same thing all over again?


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I wasn't sure if I should post this yet because it feels unfinished but anyway... I'm going to be leaving for Ottawa tomorrow for a few days and I won't have internet. So, something is better than nothing right?

PAST

He actually manages to fall asleep in the cab. He pays the driver quickly and runs up to the room.

"John? Thought you were staying with Dean? Someone from the fire department called about the cause of the fire, said it was a wiring problem. He left his number for you to call him back."

"Thanks Teresa. They said I could bring Sam by for a visit. I figured it'd be good for the both of them."

"Okay. Would it be alright if I came too? That way I could bring Sammy back in case you had to stay with Dean." It was so difficult for her to see her friend like this. She didn't know John as well, but the Winchesters went to church each week and where very active in the community. Mary's cookies were always the first to go in a bake sale. Her own son had just turned three years old, they were good friends.

Entering a hospital is not a pleasant thing to do. It is an admission that either you yourself or someone that you care about is sick or hurt.. And here she was to visit her good friend's son, her good friend who is now dead.

"Oh good, you're back, and this must be Sammy." Anna stands to get a better look at the infant in John's arms. "Maggie's shift is over, she would've wanted to meet the little guy. I'm being rude, I'm Anna." She reaches out to shake Teresa's hand.

"Teresa. I'm a family friend."

"Well, go on then. Dean's waiting."

The small group make their way over to the young boy's room. The door clicks open. It's not time for any of his meds yet, his dad must be back.

"Dean, I brought Sammy. He's right here."

"Where is he? I don't know where he is? I don't know where Sammy is!" All this time, he hasn't been able to do anything. He doesn't stay awake for long when he is awake and he always feels like he is floating around or something. It's difficult to stay focused on anyone thing for long, can't hold onto a thought long enough. There are a few things he knows, mom is gone and they tell him Sammy is fine. But there's something else, he feels like he is missing something big.

As if he is cognizant of his brother's growing distress, baby Sammy starts crying. He still hasn't moved beyond babbling yet, but his crying now is different. It's not the usual sound he makes when he is sleepy, hungry, or needs to be changed, it's as if he's crying to let Dean know he's here and that he's safe.

"Sammy?!"

"Yeah, Dean, I told you that he was safe. Now don't you worry so much about him okay? Jacob's mom's been helping to take care of him. She's here too."

"Hello Dean. Honey, we've all been so worried about you. Jacob keeps on asking about you."

Jacob was one of his better friends. There were a few other boys around the neighbourhood and at church but Jacob always let him borrow his toys. Most of the other boys always hogged everything. Last year he got a big truck for his birthday but one of the boys broke it. He barely got to play with it and someone shoved it down the stars. The truck got all bent out of shape and the front wheels fell off. He remembered that it should be Jacob's birthday soon, at least before the fire. Had it passed now?

"Is his birthday over? I didn't even get him a present?"

"Don't you worry about that, there's still plenty of time for you to make it up to him."

"I wanna go home! I don't get to do anything! Bring me home." He didn't know how long he'd been here, but it was long enough. He didn't even feel so horrible anymore. He was just tired a lot of time. Couldn't he just go home and sleep instead of here?

"What's going on here?" Anna had heard the commotion from outside. "What's all this about leaving? Don't you like us?"

"No, I like you but I want to go home and be with dad and Sammy. Why do I have to stay here?" Why did they all insist on keeping him here? Did dad not want him anymore? Is he mad that he only saved Sammy and not mom? He tried but he couldn't. He tried, but she was already gone.

"You have got to stay here until you're all better but judging by all that talking and nagging I'd say you're almost there."

"You promise? You still want to bring me home right? You promise that you aren't angry?"

"Of course I'm not mad at you Dean. No one is mad at anybody. I promise, the house is fixed up and you're better, we'll all go home together."

"Dad, why did Sammy's room catch on fire? Did that man do it? Why was mommy on the ceiling?" He remembered now. There was another man in the room. He thought it was dad at first but it wasn't. When he got to Sammy's room, he was gone already and mom was on the ceiling surrounded by the fire.

"There was something wrong with the wiring that started the fire. There wasn't a man Dean and mom wasn't on the ceiling. I promise, everything's going to be alright now. Everyone will be safe. The house will be all fixed when we go home."

"NO! I saw the man. I SAW HIM! But then he was gone and mommy was on the ceiling. He was there. He did it! If he didn't do it she would've gotten away. She would've saved us." Why didn't dad believe him? It was true. He knew that it was true. He didn't make it up. "You have to go catch him. You have to catch him.!"

"Dean, you've got to calm down ok? I believe you. I'll find him."

"Promise?"

"I promise." He'd been surprised by how well Dean had been coping with all of this. He'd been told that it was common for people, especially children, to develop different coping mechanisms after facing such a traumatic event. At first, he thought that Dean might be different and have one less thing to deal with but now it seemed to him that all that initial calmness had something to do with all the meds. But is that really what all this was? Just a coping mechanism? Dean seemed so convinced, the conviction and the fear in his voice so real. But how would a man have gotten into their house and why would he go into the nursery of all places? What was he trying to do? And why would he put Mary up on the ceiling. What did he do to her?

Maybe it was just because he wanted to believe his son that much but there were some suspicious things about the fire. It had mostly been contained to the nursery despite the severity of the blaze. The walls of the room were completely gutted and blackened beyond recognition but the fire seemed to burn itself out instead of spreading. It had eaten its way to the roof but didn't travel like a normal fire would. The flames that made it beyond the room did little damage comparatively. The hallway was blackened more by the smoke than it was burned by the fire. When the firemen got to the house and went to the nursery, they didn't see Mary. It wasn't until he and his children were rescued that he could get them to realise his wife was still in the house. They'd checked in every room of the house and they hadn't seen her but no fireman would think to watch out for a woman burning on the ceiling. It wasn't until the fire was out that they found her charred corpse in the middle of the room. If she'd been there all along, there was no way they wouldn't have seen her.

"John. John? Are you alright?"

"Huh? Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? I've been trying to get your attention for the last minute. Dean's asleep. I'm going to bring Sammy back but I think you should come too, you need the rest. It's all a lot for a small child to take in. Our minds try to fill in the gaps of what we can't understand. He'll be fine."

"Yeah, but it's my job to worry." What he couldn't say was that he was beginning to believe his son. He should go back to the motel and call the fire department to get the details of what they've found out. A part of him really wished what Dean was saying was true. If someone had really broken in, started the fire and killed his wife, if this was really the act of some monster, then he wouldn't have to feel so guilty about those moments where he stood frozen in the hall. Even if he'd rushed into the room, by then he wouldn't have been able to save Mary. But what would that mean? This monster would still be out there, destroying other families. He'd destroyed his and gotten away. At six months, Sammy would never know his mom, remember her voice, the touch of her skin, or the smell of her hair. And at four years old, its unlikely that Dean would remember that much more. There were still her friends, but with her parents gone and no close relatives, it was up to him to hold onto her memory. It was up to him to find her killer.


End file.
